


Memories

by DragonSteel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Moresomes, Plug and Play, Spark Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSteel/pseuds/DragonSteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>G1 Au Memories are shifting, ephemeral things but still they can change everything. Skyfire shares his memories of Starscream with the Autobots and suddenly finds himself in competition over the seeker's affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the kinkmeme! Full Prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/491.html?thread=408555 Basic prompt: Skyfire tries to explain to a group of Autobots that keep pestering him in the rec room why he was ever interested in Starscream. Skyfire even goes so far as to connect to each mech in the group (kinda like interfacing, but without the overload) to show them his view of his old partner Starscream.
> 
> Parings: Starscream/Skyfire, Starscream/Bumblebee, Starscream/Perceptor, Starscream/Cliffjumper, Starscream/Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, Starscream/Aerialbots, Prowl/Jazz Oh god why am I writing so many different characters 
> 
> Kinks: Twincest, eventual sparkplay, mentions of plug-n-play, eventual moresome, eventual voyeurism/exhibitionism?
> 
> Warnings: Cultural prejudices, bullying, violence Also, I am new to this fandom and most of what I know of it comes from reading fanfiction, so if there's any OOCnes I apologize. 
> 
> This fic subscribes to the fanon/canon that prejudice against war builds is why the war started and that Starscream was blamed for Skyfire's disappearance.

 

The first thing that Bumblebee became aware of, once the static from his sensors had cleared, was how small everything was. Secondly was the stretch of leg gears in motion and the agitated twitching of something on his back. Attempting to reach back and see what could possibly be attached to his back, he realized that he could not move his arms or legs on his own.

‘Of course, a memory uplink,’ Bumblebee realized.

Still being quite young, uplinks could still be somewhat disorientating to him, but he had downloaded enough information from others during Ops missions to recognize this experience. However, this was his first download not related to interfacing or work.

The day had started out normally enough, half the day he had been assigned to maintenance duty but the rest had been left free for him. Bumblebee had been sitting in the rec room thinking about going for a drive when Cliffjumper, Wheeljack and Perceptor had come in with a visibly agitated Skyfire. The others already in the room took note of this with some surprise. The scientist had gained the nickname ‘Gentle Giant’ soon after joining the Autobots, and was one of the calmest bots Bumblebee knew. Cliffjumper, however, was well known for causing trouble; no doubt he was the cause for Skyfire’s clenching servos and twitching wings.

While Bumblebee stood so that he might interfere with any kind confrontation, Sideswipe was feeling conflicted. On the one servo, the day had been disgustingly boring so far, and a little Cliffjumper induced hassling might be a suitable diversion, but on the other, he was a bit of a wing mech, of which there was a scarcity on the Arc, and if he went over to calm down the shuttle he might be able to get a few gropes in.

…Why was he still thinking about this? For Primus’ sake he and his brother had made an entire new attack strategy based on groping wings, he was perfectly willing to stand between Cliffjumper and his latest victim if it would get him a little up close and personal with some shuttle wings. Of course shuttle wings weren’t nearly as good as seeker wings, with their delicate, razor blade edging, but that didn’t mean they didn’t deserve some attention. With a meaningful glance, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker rose to join the group in the doorway.

To their surprise, Perceptor spoke first, “I heard of Starscream while he was in the Academy, even then he was not well spoken of. Many thought you mad for staying his partner.”

“They were right,” Cliffjumper snarled, “That traitor got you frozen for millions of years! Just goes to show that once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“No, I knew Starscream better than anyone back then, he would not have abandoned me if he had had a choice.”

“He was condemned by the Academy Board of Directors,” Perceptor returned frostily, “He should never have been allowed entrance into the Academy in the first place.”

There was a lull as Skyfire clenched his fists repeatedly, and Bumblebee watched on in fascination. Sometimes he forgot that there had been a Cybertron before the war, that their foes may once have led peaceful lives. It had been in Skyfire’s profile that he had been partners with Starscream, but it hadn’t occurred to him before what, exactly, that meant.

After all, most bots were created with their personalities programmed into them, weren’t they? Autobots rarely said anything to him regarding the start of the war, it being too difficult to speak of for some, and others fearing for his ‘innocence’, but he had over heard enough talk from the soldiers to know that war builds were inherently violent. How could such violent mechs exist in a peaceful society? Even the Autobot frontliners such as Ironhide and Cliffjumper, not nearly as violent as, say, Astrotrain, sometimes had trouble integrating with the rest of the Autobots. Sunstreaker in particular was sometimes, in all seriousness, called a demon, or a war build in disguise by bots in other Autobot forces.

“You will not say that in my presence. He may be… conflicted now, but I know him. He is a brilliant scientist, the Academy should never have thrown him out!” Wistfully, Skyfire murmured to himself, “I thought they were better than that. If they hadn’t… he might have been with us now.”

“How dare you! How dare you say that, traitor! It’s a good thing there’s a true Autobot here! I am reporting you directly to Optimus!” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shoved past Cliffjumper, showing no fear of the large gun he had pulled out of his subspace. “Oh come off it, Cliffjumper! I think everybot here will agree with me when I say that the word ‘traitor’ should be deleted from your language programs. “

“Con sympathizers, I knew you would turn on us!”

In unison Sideswipe and Sunstreaker idly trailed servos along the edges of Skyfire’s wings. “He’s not gonna listen to anything you say.”

Skyfire allowed the twins to soothe the tremors from his wings, craving comfort in a time and place that still sometimes seemed so alien to him. “Perhaps… you are right. As Starscream would say, sound doesn’t carry in space, so only actions count. If only I could show everyone the Starscream I know- knew.”

The twins exchanged another glance and Sideswipe knew they couldn’t resist that kind of invitation. “Well you could, I’m sure we all have protection.”

In the end Skyfire had demanded that Cliffjumper link with him before trying to have him thrown in the brig, and stated that any others who wished to join in the link were welcome. After an hour or so of persuasion by various bots, Cliffjumper had reluctantly agreed, on the condition that the link be one way.

The Arc’s crew, being a highly structured and disciplined military unit, participated eagerly in gossip, and within an hour news of the mass merge had reached even Prowl. Ratchet, upon hearing of it, started cursing and had appointed himself in charge, demanding that they move to the medbay so that he could ‘make sure you don’t all fry your cranial circuits while attempting an orgy’.

Joining with Skyfire and Cliffjumper would be Bumblebee, Perceptor, and Wheeljack out of curiosity, the twins, who agreed that any knowledge about Screamer and his pretty set of wings would be to their benefit, Jazz because intel was vital to Special Ops (although if asked he would have given a cover excuse), and Silverbolt, ostensibly so he could gain an edge over his rival in the sky, but mostly because his teammates would have driven him crazy if he hadn’t.

As Bumblebee integrated further into Skyfire’s data stream, he began to pick up the readings his wings were sending him of air pressure, temperature, and a dozen other flight related readings, as well as the age-dulled emotions that Skyfire had been feeling at this moment. Nervousness, excitement and determination in equal measure swirled around like the air swirled around his large wings.

He saw a familiar feeling bot approach him, and his voice came out in Skyfire’s deep rumble, “Hello, Racetrack”. The mech was a standard racing model, and Bumblebee towered over him! Bumblebee had been small all his life, he had been in larger model’s memories before but he had never felt anything like this- it reminded him of being among the humans, and now that he felt for it, he could sense the carefulness with which Skyfire moved. The hesitation before he turned a corner, how his sensors felt out before each step, wary of accidentally injuring another bot.

“Hey Skyfire, I hear you’re going to be that crazy seeker’s partner.”

A flicker of surprise, “Starscream? Yes, I’m on my way to a meeting with him now.”

“What in Primus’ name possessed you to sign up with him?”

“He graduated top of his class, and I’ve read his work, it’s quite good.”

The other bot scoffed, “Like a seeker could get grades that good without cheating. My creator’s been saying it for years, military models should stick to their own cities. He doesn’t have any business trying to be a scientist.”

Skyfire was embarrassed and uncertain, but Bumblebee felt him push these emotions aside with his determination and he gave the noncommittal answer, “Perhaps.” Racetrack scoffed again, but went on his way.

The shuttle stopped in front of a door, calmed his emotions, and opened it. It was a lab- it looked a great deal like Perceptor’s lab, actually, but Bumblebee supposed that since he had come from the same academy it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that the microscope had worked in the same, or similar lab. There, a splash of color, Starscream bent over a rack of test tubes. Again Bumblebee marveled at his size. The yellow bot had had Starscream loom over him in battle before, but now he looked so small, and… delicate. The pout of concentration on his face was almost… cute.

“Ah, Starscream?”

He jerked back from the experiment with a scowl “No, I’m the other seeker in the Science Academy.”

“Ah…”

“Not too bright, are you?” Starscream flitted nearer and then turned with a clearly dismissive gesture “Try to stay out of my way.”

Bewildered, Skyfire shifted slightly, “Ah, I’m Skyfire, I signed up to be your partner…”

“Does it look like I care? You’ll be gone soon, anyway,” the seeker turned back to the test tubes and proceeded to ignore any further friendly overtures. Bumblebee almost felt disappointed; so it was true, some mechs never change.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of bullying, attempted mutilation (Not self mutilation and it doesn't scar physically)

 

There was a sense of the passage of time, along with the feelings of frustration and determination, silver quick memories of confrontations in the lab, Starscream screeching that he worked best alone, or that he didn't need a clumsy shuttle trying to steal his work, and the frustration began to win over the determination. A series of images, colleagues advising Skyfire that 'The seeker would do him no good', 'The seeker didn't deserve him as a partner', 'The seeker should go back to Vos with the rest of his kind'. Defeat swelled as Skyfire walked down the familiar corridor for what felt like the last time. Then, the door opened and, shock- Starscream with his back to him, dripping energon from a series of glyphs scratched into his wings- 'GO BACK TO VOS SEEKER TRASH'.

Starscream was struggling to spread healing nanites over the wounds, and then he turned, horror and shame burning in his optics. Then, a series of images, what Skyfire had thought harmless pranks on an arrogant, insufferable scientist gaining a new and horrible meaning. The memory feed became disjointed with emotion. His hands, trembling, spreading the salve over the glyphs, watching them slowly fade, then, his hands, turning the small seeker and cradling him despite his protests. Slowly Starscream stopped fighting him, and simply trembled in his arms.

And as these scattered images and Skyfire's feelings of confusion, understanding, anger, guilt and grief washed over him, Cliffjumper too, understood.

 

 

 

Again, the swift passage of time, Starscream's uncertain smirk slowly brightening into a true smile. Oh how his optics danced when he teased Skyfire, how his wings would perk when he came into the lab, how his optics shone during intense scientific debates that went over everyone's head except Perceptor, and Starscream's giddy laugh when an experiment turned out better than they had expected. The pranks and snide words continued but Starscream quietly confided one day that they no longer bothered him as much now that he had found… a friend? Bumblebee heard the hesitance with which the seeker said friend, saw how his optics brightened when Skyfire confirmed that they were friends, and fell a little in love.

The two scientists went for their first flight together. Silverbolt tried not to feel envy over the ease with which Skyfire launched into the sky, and the joy he felt in the wind rushing over him, and the ease with which Starscream, in his lighter, faster form, danced around him. They finally landed on one of the tallest buildings thrusting in the air (Silverbolt and Bumblebee marveled over the height and size, both being too young to have known these buildings as more than ruins.) Skyfire turned to Starscream, seeing the regal, fierce joy glowing from his optics and body, and Silverbolt, too, fell a little in love.

The memory swirled away, to be replaced with another, on top of the same building. This time Starscream was looking to the night sky, hands stretched out to touch the few stars visible through the light shining from Cybertron's cities. "I always swore that I was going to get off this miserable little planet. Away from all the pettiness and just lose myself in science, exploring, stretching the limits of my knowledge." The seeker turned to face him, and Perceptor marveled that the passion for something so beautiful could fill a mech's optics until it spilled out as ruby light. "I never thought that someone would come with me." A slow smile spread his thin lips, "We've done it. We're leaving in just a few days."

Perceptor felt himself leaning forward and as the cool lips part under his own he too fell a little in love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Old prejudices die hard. An attempt at writing Jazz's accent. 7 pages of dialogue. Blending of fanon, canon and my muses suddenly coming up with a Cybertronian conspiracy when I tried to make them seem more like robots and less human.

 

Sideswipe, for his part, was starting to realize just how very boring Skyfire was. Just one kiss. Really? Really? Not even tongue? And as the memories moved forward he realized that he probably wasn't going to show them any interfacing, either. Spoilsport. As for Starscream, well if this was the kind of thing he wanted in a courtship, no wonder he hadn't responded to him and his brother's overtures. They had assumed that the seeker would want a proper Decepticon romance, complete with scratched thrusters and bent wings. Now, a part of his mind couldn't help but wonder if they had been mistaken about what a Decepticon romance looked like. However, he knew Sunstreaker would be pleased. He would never admit it, but he had always wished for somebot he could hold and spoil at the end of the day. Okay okay, so Sideswipe, kind of wouldn't, you know, really object to that either.

Cliffjumper, too, marveled at this decidedly un-Decepticon romance. For millions of years everybot had assumed that Megatron and his Second's in fighting was the Decepticon form of flirting. After all, war builds are so inherently violent, but if this gentle courtship from Skyfire was what the seeker truly desired… Cliffjumper could feel doubts try to surface, the seeker could easily be faking, he was infamous for his schemes, but every time Starscream smiled up at Skyfire, up at him, his doubts were shaken. In the millions of years since the war had started and he had been blasted from his home he had never seen Starscream smile. In fact the only times he had ever seen a smile like that was from his creators, when he was young, and when Prowl and Jazz were together and thought that no one was looking. When he was a youngling, before the war had torn everything apart, he had dreamed of finding somebot who would smile at him like that.

Not that the two didn't argue. Even back then Starscream's moods were mercurial at best, and he was possessed of a sharp temper and a sharper tongue. Even when it wasn't completely directed at him Sideswipe was enthralled by his passionate burning optics, and caught his mind wandering off several times imagining what the humans so quaintly called 'make up sex'.

Still, the years passed, the two scientists travelled through vast regions of space, charted new star systems, explored planets, until they came to the string of planets Perceptor recognized as what the humans had charmingly named "The Milky Way Galaxy".

The link abruptly ended, and Perceptor froze in place until the static and disorientation faded from sensors no longer tailored toward space flight, but instead toward fine focusing lenses and precision laser work. The medbay, with its sterile walls and floor, slowly came into focus.

"I… don't understand," came a shaky voice from next to him.

"Understand what?" growled Ratchet's familiar voice, "The fact that this many mechs aren't meant to connect to just one bot? The fact that my sensors are telling me that the link was ended too abruptly and you're lucky you didn't suffer minor neural damage? Come on Skyfire, get up." The shuttle groaned and shakily rose a servo to his head, "Starscream? Did we go drinking last night?"

"I'm not Starscream, you halfwitted dolt. Well, I'm not reading any permanent damage, but some of your energon lines came close to rupturing from stress, and you'll have a headache for a while."

Skyfire moaned in response. "Here's something for the pain. Primus knows I shouldn't give it to you, but since you're not usually this stupid I'll let it go for now. I don't know what you were thinking ending the link like that."

Several minutes later Skyfire was able to sit up and Bumblebee repeated, "I don't understand." A pause as he gathered his scattered thoughts, "I thought when the war builds were created they were programmed to be violent and blood thirsty."

"They are! Their war mongering is why Cybertron is half dead now!"

"Starscream never wanted a war!" Skyfire visibly collected himself, "But… I suppose he's changed… a lot of time has passed. After the Academy threw him out, I suppose he didn't have anywhere to go. He must have been… Even now I can't imagine what he must have done, what he must have felt."

"No one ever told you how the war started," Ratchet realized, looking stunned.

"Not many know," Jazz countered.

"I very nearly joined the Decepticons myself, in the beginning. Then Sentinel Prime was assassinated, Optimus Prime came, and the lines were clearly drawn," the medic admitted wearily.

"Why am I surrounded by traitors?" Cliffjumper asked the ceiling in defeat.

"Not many Autobots left who were here from th' very beginning," Jazz commented lightly, "Ah may or may not have had something to do with that."

"Jazz?" Bumblebee asked. He knew that glint in his superior's visor. It often appeared after a completed mission or vengeance for a fallen comrade had been taken.

"Well, Ah didn't do nothin' outright, not with Optimus and Prowl around, but Ah made sure most of 'em, 'ceptin Ultra Magnus, of course, never made it near a higher officer."

"I don't understand," Silverbolt said slowly, "They were all untrustworthy?"

"Sometimes I forget how young you are. Some of them were worse than the Decepticons."

"I may have been young at the time, but the Decepticons started the war!" Cliffjumper snarled, "They burned down civilian buildings, many of them still had mechs inside!"

"Yes, the council refused to listen to their demands, and they started rioting."

"Rioting? Like the humans sometimes do?" Silverbolt asked in bewilderment. Even after the memory uplink a Cybertronian society that was at peace was still somewhat incomprehensible to him. The only real life references he had for peaceful, working societies came from the humans.

"You don't know anything about Cybertronian society, do you," demanded Cliffjumper.

Silverbolt drew himself in defensively, but before he could answer, Bumblebee defended, "I don't know much about Cybertron before the war either. I was very small when the Autobots found me." It had been not long after the major bombings on civilian cities had begun, Hound had spotted Bumblebee's bright colors under the rubble. When he was younger he had sometimes dreamed of finding his parents, (generally he imagined that they were powerful Autobot warriors and that they would then team up with his ragtag band of guardians to defeat the Decepticons) but as he had grown up under the harsh realities of total warfare these dreams were slowly discarded. Many of the Autobots still thought him naïve because of his age and attitude, but he could barely remember anything before he had been forced to grow up in the middle of various combat zones. Maybe this was the reason he could remain cheerful and optimistic while risking his life to alternatively save or kill other mechs; he had never known anything else. He still listened carefully to Prime's speeches of freedom and peace and he too dreamed of a time when his friends would not come back from missions mangled or offline, but in reality Bumblebee had little more idea of how to coexist in a peaceful Cybertronian society than Silverbolt or the others who had been created in the middle of the war.

"You're right. It's our fault that you do not know this," Ratchet sat down on one of the medbay berths with a creaky complaint from his joints. "It's… difficult to admit that we were so wrong."

Wheeljack's lights flashed dimly, "I don't know exactly how it began. We- me and Perceptor, were always buried in the lab back then…"

Sunstreaker snorted and Sideswipe said, "You're still always buried in the lab, sometimes we forget you're even here."

"Well, be that as it may," Perceptor continued, "We weren't aware of anything but a few rumors shared by our colleagues until the war builds started rioting in the streets."

"Don't you mean the Decepticons?" Cliffjumper asked gruffly.

"No, no Megatron was still gathering his officers and organizing, they didn't become known as Decepticons until after the Senate was… attacked."

Cliffjumper mulled to himself quietly, and faced with the others honesty and his own shaken perceptions begrudgingly admitted, "I didn't pay much attention to them either. Not until…"

The Autobots lapsed into silence, the buzzing of the lights and whirring of machinery loud in the younger bots audios as the others were lost in memory.

Silverbolt hesitatingly spoke up, "War builds. Those would be the tanks and most of the flight models, correct?"

"There were once many more model types, but yes."

"And seekers are war builds. Starscream, the others didn't like him because he was a seeker?"

"It's well known that war builds are violent; it's perfectly understandable that peaceful scientists wouldn't want him around," Cliffjumper defended.

"There were never any studies to back that up. I would know; I sometimes worked on war builds in the lower cities. Yes they were angry, but not without reason, and Primus knows you're not in a position to complain about other mech's tempers."

"I cannot believe that the Science Council would dismiss him based on blind prejudice," Perceptor frowned.

"Starscream never would admit it but he had to threaten to take the council before the Prime before they would allow him entrance in the first place. Even then they only allowed it because his scores were in the top 10 percent."

"Couldn't he have left it well enough alone? Couldn't he have gone to a university in one of the lower cities?" Cliffjumper asked in frustration. He didn't often feel conflicted, but when he did it invariably made him angry.

"The universities in the lower cities only ever dealt with weapons and war or policing," Wheeljack noted quietly.

"Well of course Iacon's Science academy was the most prestigious on Cybertron, but what do you mean to say by that?"

"Not long after my science download I worked under the research publishing unit-"

Ratchet interrupted "They don't know what that means, and Silverbolt is only familiar with the human's universities."

"Ah, yes, I suppose we should be giving them a brief summary of the academies."

"As you know, a Cybertronian is not forced to study basic factual data if there's a download available. Before the war a bot could download anything from basic history to advanced mathematical algorithms. Of course, the cost of these downloads varied, and many of them were quite expensive. "

"Most of the ones who downloaded them were Tower Mechs who had run out of other things to buy," Ratchet huffed, "I don't know how many bratty Tower Mechs I had to treat because of glitches they'd gotten from downloading more information than their memory capacity could hold."

Wheeljack continued, "In order to enter an academy a mech had to take an aptitude test. If they got a high enough score the Academy presented a contract- information downloads in exchange for a certain number of years of research or work under the Academies name. The Academies, especially the Science ones, also gave out contracts for using their equipment."

"Starscream hated it," Skyfire remembered, "He thought they were stealing the credit that should have gone under his name."

"And the restrictions," Wheeljack grimaced, "All research had to be approved by the board first. They were so focused on making money. Some of the richest mechs on Cybertron were on one of the academy boards."

"Yes, as soon as I could afford enough equipment I had planned to leave, but I never knew where I would get the money," Perceptor remembered quietly, "I worked with some scientists who were so far in debt that if not for the war they would still be working under the Academies."

"I was lucky; my creators were well off enough that they could afford most of the medical downloads necessary for me to practice medicine. It still took years to get the necessary equipment and modifications to practice medicine on my own though."

"It was one a' the Decepticon's chief complaints, they said tha' the average mech could never afford more than a menial job with the cost of downloads," Jazz pointed out calmly.

"It sure didn't keep them from targeting those average mechs, though," Cliffjumper snapped.

"Well that's why Ah'm on this side instead of theirs, ain't it?"

"After being created we got many downloads of our own, I had no idea that they were such a precious resource," Silverbolt said guiltily.

Sunstreaker snorted, "Most weren't. But the academies needed to keep a monopoly on the best and brightest in their fields, didn't they?"

Skyfire leaned back in astonishment, "What?"

"Well where do you think the sellers got the information for their downloads? The companies needed their information to be seen as reliable, and what could be more reliable than the prestigious Cybertronian academies?"

Perceptor froze as he ran the hypothesis through his processor, "…It does make a certain amount of logical sense."

"I… I can't believe it could have been that corrupt."

"You said that some of the richest mechs on Cybertron were on Academy boards. Well guess what, the rest of the rich ran the companies that created information downloads."

Shaking his yellow head Bumblebee asked, "But why did no one else notice?"

Sideswipe spoke up, "I only noticed because I went into business distributing musical composition downloads in Praxus and did some investigating on the company. Sunstreaker's lucky he didn't become popular until after he'd had all the downloads he wanted."

Sunstreaker straightened in disdain, "Never needed more than the most basic downloads on art. A pure information download doesn't make anybot a good artist."

Ratchet started slightly. That's right; Sunstreaker had been a well-known artist before the war, and Sidewsipe had dabbled in various businesses all over Cybertron. It was easy to forget; for centuries now they had been set apart for their viciousness on the battlefield. He couldn't help but wonder if Sunstreaker ever missed being known for his ability to create rather than destroy.

"The Academies, especially the ones in Iacon, really did control all the information on Cybertron," Wheeljack said in awe. "I could see that when I worked in the publishing center."

"Yes, you mentioned something about the lower Academies?"

"It was possible for other Science Academies or individuals to publish research on their own, but most sent it through to the Iaconian Science Academy in order to reach a wider audience. Any papers submitted had to be approved by a select board of Iaconian Science academy members before publishing. It was a running joke in the office that the academies from the lower cities rarely sent anything worthwhile through. I saw the papers from them myself, and it's true, they were all related to either war or policing."

"Why policing?" Silverbolt felt his panels heat slightly in embarrassment when he realized that he had interrupted the much older Autobot.

"During peacetime the armies evolved to take charge of much of the policing in the city states. That's part of the reason why the riots were so devastating; most Cybertronian cities had no police force to control the protests because in many cases it was their police force that was rioting."

"Prowl was part a' the policing units that were created by Vector Sigma ta take over from the army," Jazz's expression went distant with memory, "There were never enough a them and it jus' made the war builds angrier that the few jobs left to them were being taken away."

"The riots didn't do anything but make things worse for them. Especially since most of them were in the lower cities," Ratchet said wearily.

"The war builds," Cliffjumper said in confusion "They couldn't get other jobs?"

"It's kinda hard ta get a job when everybot thinks you're a violent maniac," Jazz pointed out drily.

"The prejudice was everywhere, the only time I ever saw a paper from one of the lower cities that was not related to policing or war, it was a research paper on crystal growth. The senior board members automatically accused the mech of plagiarism. After all, everybot knows that the only things warbuilds are interested in are inherently violent, so _logically_ the work had to be stolen. The mech went to jail for it, I tried to help but the board threatened to add more years to my contract." Wheeljack lowered his head in shame, "I should have tried harder."

"They put him in jail for wanting to publish a paper?" Cliffjumper asked in astonishment.

"Plagiarism was a very serious offense. The Academies had a great deal of influence in the Senate, and they demanded harsh punishments for infractions."

The red mininbot felt the revelations of the past few hours accumulate like blows to his spark"…I never knew that Cybertron was... I never… I never… Primus, I never paid any attention to all that. I was happy just working and, and going to a bar afterwards and…"

Wheeljack resisted the urge to pull Cliffjumper into a hug. The warrior would likely not appreciate it, despite how his parental instincts clamored and his recollections of how hugs always helped his dinobots.

As Skyfire sat and listened to the growing revelations he felt a dawning sense of horror creeping up on him. "I never should have left him," he whispered. When Bumblebee glanced at him questioningly, he said, louder, "He's right. I did betray him. Even after all those years of loving him all I saw was him and a group of war builds attacking what appeared to be civilians. All I saw was all the stereotypes of war builds apparently come true right before me."

Cliffjumper straightened from his slump with an alternately angry and grief stricken expression, "Starscream is the betrayer! He has betrayed everything he believed in!"

"Wait, calm down you two glorified buckets of bolts," Ratchet grumped at them, "There's more to tell yet. Jazz? You probably know the details better than the rest of us."

"Righ'. Well, riots in Kaon weren't unheard of, 'specially after a gladiator match, but the government jailed one of the few war builds tha' had managed ta climb up to a high rank in tha army on trumped up charges and Kaonites started calling out for equality. Then the other lower cities, Vos and the like, started protestin' an' riotin' too. Well, the rioting kept spreading an' mechs were startin' ta get real nervous like but it prolly wouldna added up to nothin' without Megatron. The rioters had no leadership, nothin' ta keep 'em together but anger. But Megatron, Megatron was a widely popular and respected gladiator. When he started speaking out, mechs listened. He 'n Soundwave put together a list of demands for the Senate, but they refused ta see 'em." Jazz glanced around at his audience. Except for Ratchet they were all leaning forward and watching him intently. "Megatron rallied the war builds, told em ta 'make war' on the higher cities. Like we said, most a the police were war builds and many either refused to go against their own kind or joined 'em. Mechs started takin' up vigilantism against 'em to protect their homes or business."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker nodded absently in remembrance.

Ratchet spoke up, "I set up a free clinic in Praxus. Made the council angry cause I'd take in any mech, war build or not. The few war builds still peacefully in the city were forced to flee from the vigilantes. Didn't matter if they'd been neighbors for years, a war build caught out alone on the streets was due for a reckoning. The war builds and the civilians, they were both reduced to mobs. It's then that I learned to defend my patients."

"…We drove out all the small groups of war builds we could find too, but It wasn't quite as bad in Iacon," Cliffjumper shifted uncomfortably, "We were angry, but I think most of us… me too, couldn't really believe that it could get any worse."

"Well, as most a ya know Sentinel Prime and the Senate eventually agreed ta meet with Megatron. It was a trap. His followers blew up half the senate building in one go. Megatron told his followers that they would never be held back again, that they would put the civilians into their proper place in tha Cybertronian Empire. After that they became known as Decepticons."

Optics wide with remembered horror, Wheeljack whispered, "The whole city was nearly massacred. It's only because of the Autobots that it was evacuated."

"Yes, before the Senate's massacre the war builds had held back. They wanted to prove a point, many of them had no real desire to kill, but afterwards Megatron began to reward those who came back with-trophies- from the bodies."

"Th' original Autobots were in the army or worked with the war builds. Most a them were pushed out or reassigned to the Higher cities when the riots firs' started spreading. Many a them were the higher ranking officers- can't trust war builds ta run an organized army after all. There were also the government workers from the Lower cities. Despite workin' with 'em, these were often some of the worst perpetuators of the prejudice against the war builds before the war."Jazz paused, then continued pragmatically, "But, they were useful in the first chaotic years a tha war. They were the few non war builds who were trained in combat, and civilians could either learn from 'em and fight, hide, or die."

"The thing you have to understand about this war is that no mech has a completely clean spark. It's gone on for too long and been too personal for that. The Decepticons burned Iacon, so- Optimus tried to stop it but he was too new- the remaining Senators ordered Vos bombed, Sparklings and all. The Seekers were enraged, so they bombed Praxus, even with their own troops inside. Optimus has managed to clean up the Autobots, make us better than what we were, but atrocities have been committed on both sides."

"Over the years it has become less tangled. It is now clear- and we've had many a deserter because of it- Megatron is a crazed megalomaniac, and Optimus wants nothing more than for the war to end. But in the beginning it was the war builds versus every other mech."

Cliffjumper could feel the air in the room pushing, pressing, crushing him. The phantom sensations lingering from the memory uplink had the sensors in his-Skyfire's wings registering the atmospheric pressure and the number climbing higher and higher."I- are we done with the lecture yet?" Not waiting for an answer the red minibot stomped his way toward the med bay entrance.

"Well, as the humans say, the rest is history." Wheeljack turned towards Skyfire earnestly. "Everybot has their own story, but in the end most of us had no choice of what side to join at first."

"So Starscream, really had no choice? Isn't their some way of convincing him to join? I'm sure the Prime would never allow any prejudice against him," the large shuttle met his each of his surrounding companions optics desperately.

"Perhaps, however, as our colleague Wheeljack has said, we have had many deserters, if Starscream wished to join us… I fear that he already would have." And with Perceptor's solemn judgement, the small group of Autobots found that there was nothing left to discuss.

 

 

 

Cliffjumper swiftly made his way to the range, in desperate need to stop his thinking. Of course as he blasted his way through the various drones and obstacles available he came back to his same old problem; once he felt something all the way down to his spark he never could stop himself from dwelling on it.

Wheeljack and Perceptor headed back to their labs, however, upon their arrival, found themselves reminded of the many memories they had just recently downloaded, and Wheeljack found himself soon departing in search for some overly enthusiastic Dinobot hugging. Perceptor sternly told himself that he was being illogical, that his lab was only superficially similar to Starscream and Skyfire's, however hours later found that he had still made little progress on his current projects.

Skyfire lingered for some time in the medbay, lost in what was becoming a sickenly familiar grief. Only after Ratchet's grumbling transformed into outright threats did he gather together the motivation to return to his cramped quarters.

After asking if Ratchet needed any help in the medbay, and was in answer shoved out the door Bumblebee spent several hours outside staring at the sky and sighing, oblivious to his friends' questions and inquiries over his health.

The Aerialbots, who for the past few hours had felt Silverbolt's emotions dip and sway every which way met him halfway to their quarters and barely waited for the door to close before connecting to each other for a mutual sharing of emotions and memories. The ecstasy of sparkmerging soon followed and as the glow of their bright sparks faded and was blocked by their closing chestplates they were all in agreement that Something Must Be Done. However, as was often the case for the Aerialbots, there was great disagreement what it was exactly that should be done.

The twins, after their own merging to stabilize their spark resonance and the consequent convergence of their impressions and emotions since their last interface together, were also in agreement that Something Must be Done, and Sideswipe was soon happily crafting Master Plans and strategies.

After quickly updating the Special Ops file on Starscream in Teletraan 1 Jazz made a beeline for Prowl's office. The repercussions of this incident would be resonating throughout the crew for the next several Earth weeks and the Second and Third in Command would need to make plans to monitor morale closely as well as adjust battle strategies. That, and Jazz was feeling a sudden need to see his mate's eyes light up when he entered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Jazz and Prowl being sneaky, Cliffjumper being forced out of his comfort zone.

 

 

"Cliffjumper and the Twins are the most volatile at the moment," Prowl's smooth voice stated. The Second and Third in Command of the Autobot forces were currently hold up in his office.

"Yeah. Strange though, tha Twins didn seem much surprised by any a what was learned." Jazz replied from where he had perched himself in the Second-in-Command's lap.

"According to Red Alert they've been in their quarters since yesterday. There is a high probability that Sideswipe, at least, is planning something."

Jazz grinned, "Red Alert's freaking out, huh?"

"He's convinced Sideswipe is going to try painting over the cameras again."

Jazz leaned back to look up at Prowl's face, "You don't think so though."

"Sideswipe rarely tries the same prank twice, and I believe that Prime managed to get across the importance of the cameras in Arc security."

Jazz winced in sympathy; a disappointed Optimus Prime was something none of the Autobots wanted to have to face.

"I will assign them more physically and mentally demanding duties, but until we collect more data further action is inadvisable."

Jazz nodded in agreement, "Ah'll get Bluestreak on it, if it's just another prank they'll include him. Tha one Ah'm worried 'bout is Cliffjumper. Haven't heard nary a peep outta him since yesterday."

Prowl frowned slightly, "He is not sticking to his usual patterns, no. What do you suggest?" Prowl may be a brilliant tactician and strategist, but when emotions and more random variables came into play he had learned to rely on Jazz's insight.

"He's tha kinda mech that needs ta confront things," he mused.

"That fits with his previous behavior patterns, yes."

"Ah think tha trouble is he isn't sure who or what ta confront. Ah'll see if I can get him ta push back afore he explodes at somebody."

"Very well," Prowl paused to review the data Jazz had shared with him the previous day. "The Aerialbots may prove to be a problem. They have more ties with the Autobots than previously, but they've had trouble with Starscream before, and stick mainly within their own group. It is a problem that should have been addressed earlier." He ducked his head slightly in acknowledgment of the oversight.

"Fireflight and Siverbolt shouldn be a problem, but ah'll try an encourage em ta go in tha rec room more often. Maybe we could get Ironhide ta give Slingshot and Air Raid more weapons training."

"Thereby distracting them and hopefully forging a bond with one of the commanding officers. I will change their duty rosters now." There was a brief pause as he pulled up the duty logs for the Ark crew. There had not been any large attacks recently and most of the Autobots were currently assigned to surveillance and scouting duties. Ironhide was currently off duty but Prowl would be unsurprised if he was still polishing weapons or fixing broken equipment in the Weapons Range. Prowl sent him a message with the request, and since there was a high probability that he would answer affirmatively, sent messages to both Slingshot and Air Raid informing of the changes in their training. Even if Ironhide answered negatively Prowl had no doubt that Jazz could either persuade him otherwise or take his place.

"Ah've heard Skydive's into military history, you could watch soma those boring vids you like." Jazz smirked up at him.

"Finally a mind which can fully appreciate their insights," he drily replied.

"A mind boring enough not ta be put inta recharge by em ya mean."

Prowl lightly snorted and wrapped his arms around his mate's body. "Do not mock what you lack the capability to appreciate."

"Does that mean you won't complain 'bout my music anymore?"

"I find the human classical music quite enjoyable. However the percentages are against anyone enjoying some of those other songs I have heard you playing."

"Da Nile, babe, not just a river in Egypt."

The Praxian blandly raised an eyebrow, "I fail to see what the geographical location of one of Earth's major rivers has to do with it."

Jazz grinned and snuggled closer into his body, "This could go on fer hours so ya can just go head an pretend you've won."

Long accustomed to their banter, Prowl merely nodded and contented himself with the feel of his greatest treasure secured in his arms for a few more moments before their duties called them away again.

 

 

 

The weapons range was a primitive thing, little more than a hollow in the ground, surrounded by earthen walls and filled with various obstacles and targets. There was a flag raised on one of the walls, indicating that it was currently in use, and judging by the voice shouting curses and the types of weapons being fired it was indeed the elusive Cliffjumper. Jazz smiled grimly, it was time for some tough love and a pep talk the red minibot would never forget.

Heading to the storage area near the weapons range, used for keeping broken targets, obstacles and various other things that Ironhide deemed useful Jazz stopped to suggest that Ironhide leave off polishing his cannon and speak to Silverbolt about what Air Raid and Skydive's current training regime was like. When the large mech headed off, grumbling about being put in charge of some flighty jets Jazz headed down into the weapons range.

As he neared the top of the wall Cliffjumper came into the view of his optical sensors. His movements were precise, every shot hitting its target, but as Jazz came nearer he didn't acknowledge him and his face had a certain blankness that showed that his thoughts were far away.

Gauging Cliffjumper's movements Jazz easily slipped behind him and, using careful timing, yanked the small gun he was using out of his hand and easily somersaulted away. Cliffjumper jerked in surprise, then, pulling a new gun out of his subspace, spun around to face his new adversary.

"Jazz? What the frag are you trying to pull?"

"Yer reaction time was kinda slow, huh?" The black and white mech smirked and slunk behind one of the obstacles, a stack of concrete slabs, "Looks like you need some more training."

The red minibot growled and replaced the large cannon that he had pulled out with a smaller one that would do less damage to Jazz's tough armor, "I'll show you who needs more training."

At first Cliffjumper was relieved to see Jazz and the distraction he represented, but as the fast mech spun around, dropped behind a series of targets and yet again popped out of an entirely unexpected place he felt his frustration and emotions, already near the tipping point, begin to boil over. "Don't you ever stand still you stupid fragger?"

"What's the problem, something wrong?"Jazz called out from wherever he had hidden himself this time.

"Yeah! I'm feeling the need to blast you into pieces!" He began to blast away the obstacles and targets that his weapon could destroy, trying to decrease the number of hiding places available.

"That's not all you're feeling though, is it?"

That sounded like he was close, Cliffjumper shifted, sensors trying to penetrate the remaining obstacles. "The frag's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, I think we both know what Ah'm talking about."

That definitely sounded like it was coming from the left, and if that fragger was hinting at what Cliffjumper thought he was, well, "That's none of your business!" Spying a likely hiding place, he charged forward, canon booming, but when he spun around the corner, all that was behind the metal panels were a pair of speakers. Feeling vindictive, he smashed them and ran back out into the open- only to find Jazz suddenly upon him. Grabbing his arm, the black and white mech threw him to the ground and sat on top of him, leaning forward to snarl, "Ah am tha Third in Command, your business _is_ mah business."

Cliffjumper was stronger than Jazz, but Jazz was larger and heavier, and as the red minibot struggled, he wrenched his arm back and up, forcing him into an awkward and strained position. "We're gonna have a little chat."

"About what?" Came Cliffjumper's belligerent reply, slightly muffled against the ground his face was pressed into.

"About Starscream," Cliffjumper couldn't hide his flinch at the name, "and Skyfire, tha Decepticons, tha Autobots, whatever needs talkin' about."

Jazz abruptly released his arm and stood up. The red minibot grunted and slowly sat up, "What do you want me to say?" he asked, still facing away from him.

"Starscream."

Cliffjumper winced again, "I don't get it, the mech's such a slagger, and then... then…He was just so… pretty, and- not nice, but, decent?"

Jazz sighed, "Cliffjumper, every Autobot has their own story, and every Decepticon has their story. Skyfire was under that ice a very, very long time."

Cliffjumper turned to face him, "But why couldn't we ever see that? Aren't you the head of Special Operations?"

"Cliffjumper, yer not angry at me, who are you angry at?"

He launched himself back onto his feet, "I'm angry at Skyfire! Why did he have to show me that? And- and the rich mechs before the war, and-and the Autobots before the war and- and- Starscream! Why did he change?"

"You hate lies! Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying!" Cliffjumper shouted and stormed off toward the other side of the obstacle course.

"It's not like you to lie, and it's not like you to run! Who are you angry at?"

Cliffjumper blasted a target which had somehow managed to survive his earlier rampage, "I- me, I guess! Why couldn't I see- why didn't I know this? Starscream is supposed to be an evil, cowardly fragger!"

"Don't ya ever get tired of judging people? Don't ya ever get tired of bein' wrong?"

Cliffjumper spun around and stormed back toward the black and white mech "The frag's that supposed to mean?"

"If anybot's just a little different, a little unlike ya, ya automatically hate 'em! You bully Mirage because he's soft spoken and comes from the Towers, sneer at Red Alert when he's stuck in a room all day looking after your sorry aft, the only mechs ya really get along with are Ironhide and Huffer, an only 'cause you're so Primus damned similar! Ya don't understand, an have never tried ta understand, tha rest of us!"

"Shut up. Shut up! What's there to understand, anyhow? We're all Autobots, aren't we? We all believe in the same things, don't we?"

"Obviously not! We're all sick of ya causing trouble 'cause ya don't understand where anyone else is coming from!"

Cliffjumper looked genuinely bewildered, and slightly hurt, and Jazz almost felt sorry for him. Almost; this may be the only chance to get this through his thick skull. "Ya think Optimus woulda been surprised that Starscream was a real mech, with real feelings? Do ya truly think Mirage would betray the Autobots when he has given up so much for us already?"

"Mirage? Wha-"

"Ah repeat, ya know, understand, nothin'! You _should_ be angry at yerself!"

Cliffjumper looked like Motormaster had just twirled across the floor in a tutu and hit him over the head. Jazz softened his voice, "Ta borrow a simile from tha humans, mechs ain't one or two dimensional. We all come from a different place, we all see things from a different angle, and we're all capable of change. Prime desperately hopes that one day all a tha cons will realize the error of their ways and change for tha better. Half tha time Ah think he's crazy, but then Ah remember mah life on the streets of Polyhex, or Ah see Warpath or Kup. Ah look over tha files on tha Decepticons, who they were before tha war. For that matter, look at yourself, Cliffjumper- before tha war ya wouldna dreamed a firing a gun, let alone that whole arsenal you've somehow gotten inta yer subspace. We've proven that mechs can change. You've shown that ya can change, now it's time for ya ta choose ta change again."

"You- really think I need to? I've been like this my whole life, haven't heard any complaints."

"You haven't heard any complaints because not everybody likes to make trouble! You're a good soldier; we all know we can trust ya on tha battlefield, but once yer off duty yer a menace; constantly berating others or making painful remarks out of either ignorance or malice! Ya damn near made Bluestreak cry just tha other day; yer lucky the Twins or Prowl haven't taken you out for a beatin'!"

"Bluestreak? Wha- I'd never hurt Bluestreak! …Even if he can be a little annoying."

"That's part of the problem; half the time ya don't even really mean to hurt people, or judge them, but ya still do!"

" …But what can I do? How am I supposed to change?"

"I'm not gonna lie ta ya; it ain't gonna be easy. But ya can start by bein' honest wit yerself, and really paying 'ttention ta tha mechs around ya."

"But we've been together for vorns! I know all their habits, all their hobbies," Cliffjumper protested.

"Mebbe ya do, an' mebbe ya know that Blaster sometimes plays his music way too loud at night, or that Ironhide is gonna blow a gasket when he sees tha state a tha firing range, but do ya know what cities they were born in? Ya know Hound obsesses over Earth's organic life, but do ya know what his favorite animal is and why? Ya know Tracks spends more time on his polish than he should, but do ya know why? Mebbe these are little things ta know, ta bother asking, but sometimes little things can define a mech."

There was a sudden gust of wind, and a wooden wall with several holes shot into it fell over. Cliffjumper winced; Ironhide _was_ going to a blow a gasket.

"Listen, Ah'm gonna give ya an assignment Ah usually give mah new recruits in Special Ops. Each week, pick someone and spend that week getting ta know 'em. Ask 'em where they grew up, how they joined tha Autobots, their favorite song, anything! Unless yer Soundwave tha only way ta understand someone, their thoughts, their actions, is ta talk ta 'em."

Cliffjumper grimaced, he knew he wasn't the most well liked mech in the Ark, this wouldn't be easy, but Jazz was right, that really was his own fault. So, gathering the determination and stubbornness that had made him a good soldier as well as occasionally a major pain in his commander's aft, Cliffjumper nodded, "Yeah. Okay. But, who do I start with."

"That's up to you mech. But if Ah know ya any you'll take the hardest challenge first." Jazz grinned and clapped him on the shoulder companionably, "Now let's get outta here before Ironhide gets back."

 

 

 

The Ark burrowed into the mountain like an ostrich hiding by sticking its head in the sand. The burnt orange color, however, reminded him of the bright tropical birds which resided in the continent south of them. After watching so many of the human's nature documentary programs he had found himself comparing mechs, flyers especially, to Earth's organic creatures. 'I,' Mirage decided, 'am spending far too much time with Hound.'

Really, he couldn't be the only one averse to living in a clumsy, grounded spaceship, half buried under the ground. Although he wouldn't go as far as Huffer, who he had heard grumbling about them creating their own grave for themselves. At one time it would not have been unusual for Transformers to live deep beneath the surface of a planet, in fact many areas of Cybertron were layers built on top of layers. However as the war went on, age and weapons weakened the infrastructure of much of Cybertron, and many Transformers had begun to pick up a form of claustrophobia, reluctant to venture more than a few miles under ground, and more than a few members of the Ark's crew had been caught, or nearly caught, in a collapsing level before. Few of the Autobots felt comfortable going into the deeper areas of the ship, where their sensors would send them pings of the height of the ground towering over them every time they moved. That was the reason organizing and repairing the Ark's equipment went so slowly and why most of the quarters were located nearer to the entrance. As it was, most Autobots preferred to spend their time outside when they weren't recharging or in the rec room. Mirage himself had spent more than one night camping under the stars with Hound when his pressure plates began registering phantom weight pressing down on him from above. Being from the Towers Mirage had spent little time underground during his sparkling years. The Tower mechs had made a point of building aboveground so that their graceful architecture and the detailed murals etched into their walls could be seen by those residing below them.

Of course, there were those Autobots who either didn't care or were more used to being underneath the surface. Prowl and Red Alert, for instance, spent most of their time in their offices. Perhaps Red Alert's already pervasive glitches hadn't left enough room in his personality matrix for another one.

Mirage instantly chided himself for the mean spirited musing; being part of Special Ops he worked closely with Red Alert and his surveillance, and he knew better than most how the mech sacrificed to keep the crew safe and made it possible to spot many problems before they had a chance to become a danger.

'Perhaps I have not been spending enough time with Hound after all.' He knew that if he had not spent the last several shifts with Tracks and Huffer's complaining he would never have thought such a thing. He knew better than most that those who you cared for could say and do things which stun sharper than a laser. He hadn't had this trouble in the Towers; he had had a high enough standing within their society to prevent the more mean spirited tricks and gossip, and hadn't particularly cared what others said beyond the need to maintain his standing. But his fellow Autobots, he admired and respected, actually cared for them and what they thought.

Unfortunately he knew very well how a small, insular society worked. There were those who were almost immune to gossip, such as Optimus and Perceptor, by virtue of their status and personalities, others who were common scapegoats for gossip and harsh remarks, such as the Dinobots and Tracks, again by dint of status and personality. The instigators, such as Cliffjumper and the Twins, who could turn the mood of most of the Ark against one mech within a matter of hours through sheer force of personality, then there was everyone else, who simply rode the tides of shifting internal relationships and dynamics. Of course, most of the time there was no real harm meant, and being soldiers, the Autobots gossiped and complained more out of boredom than any real mean spiritedness.

Unfortunately, Mirage sometimes had trouble keeping up his social status, being somewhat quiet and from such a different background than most of the others, and he had to admit that sometimes he took the gossip more seriously than he should.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Cliffjumper rounded the corner, smelling of ammunitions and lightly scratched, likely on his way back from the Weapons Range. Mirage tensed slightly, the red minibot reminded him of a pitbull. Usually loyal but possessed of a temper which he was as unnervingly likely to turn on his allies as the enemy. The smaller carbot passed by without looking up, and Mirage began to relax and thought of comming Hound; if just the sight of Cliffjumper was enough to make him tense he obviously needed some time unwinding. Then, the footsteps behind him paused and Cliffjumpr called out to him. Tensing again he stopped and turned, saying warily, "…Hello."

The red minibot stared at him for a moment with a strange expression, and then slowly approached. When he was a few feet away he stopped again, still with that strange expression that Mirage couldn't quite interpret. "I, uh, I've done things…"

Shifting slightly Mirage waited uncertainly, Cliffjumper wasn't one to hesitate. "I, uh I apologized for calling you a traitor, asked for your forgiveness, but… " Cliffjumper grimaced down at the floor before apparently gathering his determination and looking up into his optics. "I might have done- or said- other things which weren't real nice. I've never much seen the point of thinking or hesitating before doing something. Just a waste of time, really," Letting out a sudden huff of laughter he grinned and said, "My creators always said I picked my name a little too well. Always jumping off cliffs before looking."

That old hurt twinged in Mirage's spark, but he managed a small smile, "It's fine, you're not the only one to… question my dedication to the Autobots."

"That makes it worse!" Cliffjumper puffed himself up to his rather unimpressive tallest and growled, "Who's been saying that to you? I'll- I'll punch them. Come with me, we can beat them up together!"

Amid startled laughter, Cliffjumper was now reminding him of one of those adorable little bulldogs, Mirage managed to reply, "That's really not necessary."

"Oh come on! Punching someone always makes me feel better!"

"Um, no, I don't really want to punch anyone…"

Cliffjumper slumped in disappointment, then appeared to stare down the corridor for a moment before leveling another unreadable look at Mirage. 'Has Cliffjumper always been so difficult to read?' he wondered.

"You lived in the Towers."

Mirage tensed all over again, ready for the usual insults in spite of Cliffjumper's apology.

"Wheeljack and Sunstreaker have been saying some kind of crazy things." Wheeljack? Wheeljack had never been one to gossip; far too interested in his experiments or the strange little family he had collected.  
"What was it like living in the Towers?"

Mirage frowned; this had all the markings of a cruel joke to mock all the little things he had once held dear. "Surely you're not interested in what we Tower snobs did before the war."

Cliffjumper winced, "That does kind of sound like something I'd say. …How about this, I'll tell you about living with the workers in Iacon, if you tell me about what it was like living in the Towers."

Mirage shifted uncertainly, this could easily be turned against him. Thinking quickly, Mirage came across a possible solution to minimize any damage, "I was about to go to the rec room, I could com Hound and we can all sit together if you wish." To his relief, Cliffjumper agreed easily, and after sending a quick com to Hound, they were on their way.

 

 

 

The Ark echoed his footsteps as he came down the hallway. It was fairly late at night, and while it was not strictly necessary for Transformers to recharge at any particular time of the planetary rotation the Autobots had picked up many habits from their human hosts, among them their diurnal inclinations. Skydive knew that Fireflight hated to be out of their quarters at night unless it was outside. The busyness that distracted him from the weight of the mountain during the day was absent then and he could almost physically feel the weight pushing down. Fireflight had also, unfortunately, watched some human monster movies recently and was convinced that to walk down the hallways alone at night was simply asking for something to jump out at him.

Skydive personally preferred the Ark at night, for much the same reasons; it was much quieter and calmer. He had just gotten off a late shift, and having not fueled since that morning, was headed for the rec room. When he entered he was unsurprised to see a few Autobots still there, but was surprised to see that one of them was the Second in Command, Prowl. He appeared to be watching one of the human's documentaries. Skydive walked past the couch settled in front of the Transformer-sized tv and retrieved a cube of energon from the dispenser, however on his way out he paused behind the couch as the images on screen caught his attention.

"Excuse me, sir. If I might enquire as to what you are watching?"

Prowl turned and calmly replied, "It is a human documentary of one of their recent wars, this one mainly focuses on the strategies used by one General Douglas Mcarthur."

Skydive hesitated for a moment, intrigued, but reminded of Slingshot's prejudices against the humans and Prowl's reputation as being cold and distant.

Before he could come to a decision the black and white mech spoke up, "You are welcome to sit, if you wish. The rec room is an area free of rank." He paused for a moment, "Unless the Twins are making trouble, of course."

The Aerialbot hesitatingly took a seat on the opposite side of the coach and was soon engrossed in the video, and to his surprise even analyzing some of the commentary and battle strategies with Prowl. His gestalt mates rarely had the time or patience to listen to his budding interest in battle tactics. Silverbolt was learning about air combat, and listened eagerly to any new ideas on the subject, but any mention of ground forces or what he saw as non-essential knowledge and he was quickly distracted by one of the other Aerialbots or one of his many duties. Long after the documentary had ended Prowl and he remained deep in discussion, and to Skydive's surprise, Prowl decided to allow him a download on various battle tactics based on his interest and aptitude for the subject. After scheduling a meeting in his office the next day the second in command and the aerialbot went on their separate ways pleasantly surprised and pleased by the encounter.

 

 


End file.
